Smash the World's Shell
by Arrghus
Summary: With the power of Ohtori Akio shattered, there is only one certainty for those yet lingering in the Academy.
1. Juri

One day, it came to pass that the student known as Juri Arisugawa had dissapeared from the world. She was not in the classroom, learning inconsequential things. She was not in the hallway, catching snogging students and other delinquents. She was not by the lake or on the roof or in the basement. She was not even in the fencing hall, and her subordinates had to run that activity by themselves. It was, all things considered, a rather strange and unique occurence, only the second of its kind.

Some of the children were very surprised. Nanami and Kozue and Keiko, Kanae and Mitsuru and perhaps Akio, if he heard of it at all. Others, those who knew her, less so.

To understand how it happened, we must go back to the day before, her last day in the world, and follow her through that day. In the morning, she woke, rose, showered, brushed her hair and teeth, put on her tampon and her clothes, and, at last, her necklace. She opened it and looked at it. The glass was cracked now (she had previously flung it against a wall in a fit of rage and had not yet had the time to replace it). Behind it, the picture lay as immaculate as ever. She closed the necklace, grabbed her sword, and left. This day, for the first time, she left her books behind.

She sat in class with her sword lying over her knees. The teacher took notice, but spoke not of it. If Juri broke the rules, then the rules were more likely in the wrong than she. Such was her respect. Behind her, Shiori took notice, and quietly left the classroom.

At recess, Juri spoke with many people, mostly of things of little value. She spoke to Miki and Saionji and Nanami of fencing and battle and miracles, and walked away happier. She spoke to the girl Wakaba, to everyone's surprise but perhaps her own, and walked away happier. She tried to speak to Touga, but Touga did not speak back. Finally, she went to see Ruka in his grave, and spoke of many dire things, and when she left, she drew her sword and went to the lake.

She found Shiori by a tree, crying. She sat down, laying her unsheathed sword on her knees and she waited. For fifteen minutes she waited, and then Shiori spoke.

"I hate you." She said.

"I know." Said Juri.

"I hurt you."

"I know."

"I turned you against your friends and used you as a weapon when it suited my whims."

"I know."

"I stole a boy because I thought you wanted him. Twice. I tried to stop you from happiness just because I knew I could. I spat on everything you are."

"I know."

"I'm envious. I'm spiteful. I'm cruel."

"I know."

"I'm ugly."

"No."

"I'm weak."

"No."

"I'm horrible."

"No."

"I'm hopeless."

"No."

"Then what am I?"

"Beautiful."

"You lie."

"No."

And Juri raised her hand and put it on her chest. There was a light, and from it, a sword emerged. She handed the sword to Shiori, who grabbed it hesitantly. Two roses grew, one on Juri's chest, one on Shiori's, and they fought, Juri with her sword, and Shiori with the same. For a long time, they fought, circling each other like a dance, Shiori pressing the attack and Juri dodging and weaving around her old friend. At last, Shiori had had enough, and yelled at Juri to finish it.

And Juri stopped moving, her hands hanging limp by her side and her sword hanging limp from her hands. Shiori ran at her and stabbed at the rose, so hard the sword would surely pierce the heart.

The sword stopped. The rose was unharmed. The duel ended. Juri sheathed her sword. "Thank you, Shiori." She touched the rose on her chest, and it fell away, revealing a small metal thing underneath. "Until we meet again." She turned away and left, and then she was gone from the world.


	2. Miki

It was all wrong. Heart beating, Miki hid behind the door, hearing the notes flowing from his beloved piano. Quietly in the dark, when no one ought to be looking, Kozue played on his beloved piano, and it was all wrong. This was his sister's level? The sound was atrocious. The notes came too quick, too slow, and every so often an extra key slipped into the sound. This wasn't the Sunlit Garden. This was nothing. This was wrong.

That night, Miki lay fitful in his bed. Everything was wrong. Kozue couldn't play the piano. That didn't make sense. Of course Kozue could play the piano. What was even the point of Kozue if she couldn't play the piano? What was the point of anyone? What was the point of Anthy if she went away and didn't play with him anymore? What was the point of Utena, if she wasn't around to tease him and talk to him? What was the point of Juri? Of Touga? Of Saionji?

What was the point?

In the dream, the shadows moved. "The treasure that led me to first sail the seas was... it was..."

"Captain, we've sprung a leak."

The next morning, Miki spent almost an hour tearing up the old garden, destroying the weeds and the furniture with equal ferocity. Then, he sat down and laughed. And wept.

Then, he went to the piano room.

He sat down by the piano. He moved a finger across the keys and pushed one. Then, he did it again, and soon he was playing. It wasn't the Sunlit Garden. It wasn't anything.

The next test he took, he got every question wrong. When the answer was A, he wrote B; when the answer was B, he wrote C, and when it was C, he wrote A.

Then while fencing he switched from fighting with his left hand to using his right. That almost worked, it confused his opponents enough to get in a few hits.

Then, he sat down and thought like he had never done before. Things had gone wrong. Things had gone wrong because he had done them wrong. Everything was wrong.

But the sun still hanged in the sky. The clouds still moved. The school walls had not crumbled yet, and he had not stopped breathing from wrongness yet.

So was being wrong... right?

He thought about that for a long time. And he realized some things. He talked to Kozue about it. And Saionji. And the Shiori girl, even though he didn't like her. And... well, there wasn't anyone he knew outside of that. So he talked to some new people instead.

Then one day he found a rose was growing on his porch, and within the rose he found something small, metallic, and very important. Barely needing to think, he picked it up, and put it in his pocket.

That would have to wait. He still had studying to do.


	3. Saionji

It would take quite a while for the human known as Kyoichi Saionji to leave the world. Months would pass, and he would stand in his dojo, cutting endless imaginary enemies.

Cut.

Anthy was gone now. The Utena girl had stolen away the Rose Bride, sullied her perfect mannerisms with displays of unacceptable emotion before driving her away beyond his reach.

Cut.

And yet, if that was possible, if the Rose Bride could be so sullied, if she could allow herself to step beyond his reach, were she truly eternal? Were she truly that which shone?

Cut.

He had not seen the tower fall, but he had been to see the wreckage. Roses grew in its place, wild and covered in thorns. Beneath them, he had found a stairwell.

Cut.

Beneath the stairs, there was a door of white stone, on which was written "Here lies Himemiya Akio". Behind the door, he had found the chairman, his body hanging against the wall, pierced through with four swords. As he approached him, Akio stirred.

"Have you, too, come to see the Prince, boy? Have you a sister who he could have saved? Have you a dragon who he could have slain?"

Cut.

He had helped the man down, of course. The elder Himemiya was a monster, but he couldn't imagine he deserved that kind of punishment.

"Haah. Helped by a boy. How humiliating. A boy cannot be the Rose Bride. But that is not what you desire, is it? You wish the Prince's power, do you not?" Suddenly standing up, the raggedy man grabbed one of the swords that had been pinning him. "Then defend yourself!" He leapt forward, his sword seeking Saionji's chest.

Saionji dodged and drew his own sword. The next time Himemiya went after him, the bamboo blade diverted the strike, and a quick hit to the hands disarmed his opponent.

Cut.

Three more times, Himemiya had come after him, and three more times he had disarmed him. Exhausted, the man had collapsed to the floor, and Saionji had carried him to the infirmary.

Cut.

That evening, something had changed. His books hadn't become easier, but he found he could read them longer without growing bored or tired. The exercises hadn't become simpler, but something in his mind had changed, and the challenge seemed no longer so large.

Cut.

Six months later, Saionji Kyuoichi found to his great surprise that he had completed his entire curriculum. When he talked to his supervisor, she had smiled and handed him a small, padded box.

He opened the box.

Of course.

Cut.

He had asked around for the girl Wakaba, that he might repay her kindness before he left, but they seemed not to know who he was talking about. What a shame.

Cut.

Cut.

Cut.

Reacting to some unseen change in the air, Saionji ceased cutting, and put the sword back with the others. A little while later, he left the training room, going back to his apartment and retrieving the little box.

He went outside.

He opened the box.

It was time.


	4. Shiori

The witch sits alone in her room, surrounded by discarded toys. A sword, a wilted flower, a picture of someone. The room is half-lit, and as time passes the shadows play around the corners. Time passes not, for an impenetrable wall of thorns surrounds her.

There is a knock on the door. First softly, then insistently. The witch rises, and walks to the door, and her hand pushes down the handle, and the door swings open.

``Hello. I'm from the student council. You haven't shown up to class for a while, so we were getting worried.''

The girl is pretty. Something in the witch stirs at that thought, tries to push it away, but she no longer has the strength. The struggle brings only pain. Thorns like swords prick into her skin. Thorns prick into her skin, and she bleeds purple. She bleeds, and the blood touches the ground and becomes flower petals. She bleeds. She bleeds.

``I'm sorry?''

Blood fills the room. Wonderful, beautiful flower petals drown everything in sight. It's beautiful, or it would be. It would be.

``Are you alright?''

``Yes?'' The petals disperse slightly, but still haunt at the periphery.

``Are you alright?''

``Yes.''

``Can you tell me why you haven't been coming to class?''

Is that concern? Yes, it is. Weak, exploitable, small, concern. Vulnerable concern.

What was it you did with concerned people again? She can no longer remember.

``I don't know.''

There is silence for a time. How long, she can't tell.

``Did something happen?''

The word 'no' forms on her lips, and hangs there. It hangs there. It hangs there. She tries to shake her head. She tries to hold up her hands.

She nods.

``Do you need to talk to someone about it?''

She talks. She talks. She talks. A wound opens over her chest, and a flood of flower petals spills out. She talks. Cracks spread through her body. She talks. The wall of thorns wilts. She talks. She talks. She talks.

At last, she stops. She is tired. The other girl looks at her a little funny.

``Okay. Thanks for... for opening up. I have some things I need to do now, but if you want to talk again I can come by?''

``I'd like that.'' She would. The feeling is a little unfamiliar, rusted from disuse.

The girl turns around and leaves. Another unfamiliar feeling floats by.

``Wait. What's your name?''

``Oh, sorry. Kiryuu Nanami. Goodbye, miss Takatsuki.''

She closes the door. She goes to bed, clothes still on. As she falls asleep in bright afternoon, Shiori smiles a little. It is unfamiliar.


	5. Nanami

In one of the garages, Nanami has a project. It is made from old discarded things and gifts from friends. At the end of the day, when she has done her classes and done her duties as council president, she goes down to the garage, puts on her heavy clothes, and goes to work. When she started, she wasn't sure what it was she was making, but now, when she is almost done, it's clearer. There's just a few things left to fix.

The motorcycle is a bright yellow, and it mostly works, but the wheels on the scarlet side car refuse to move no matter how much she oils them. She has tried replacing them, she has tried opening them up and looking inside for the problem, she even, when in a strange mood, tried to change them for skates, with predictable results. It just won't work.

It has to work, of course. She knows that by now. There is a place she needs to go, people she needs to meet. Each day the world seems smaller around her; each night, the hears the hum of the engine, and the headlights beckon.

She sits up on the bike, and experimentally starts it up again. It hums to life softly, but strains to move forward. It's the side car, she can see that clearly. Yet, she can't, can she?

There is a noise from the door. She turns around. ``Tsuwabuki?''

``I've come with help. This is how it has to be.''

The wall behind Tsuwabuki bursts, and an elephant bursts in. It runs over Nanami and the bike and knocks her over. When she sits up, she sees the bike is dented, and the side car has been knocked loose.

``Goodbye, Miss Nanami.''

She gets up on the bike. She starts up the engine again. And she rides away into an uneasy sunrise.


	6. Kozue

They stand by the road in a circle, facing each other. Kozue and Miki on one side, Keiko and Shiori on the other. There are smiles all around as they look at one another. Keiko clutches Shiori's hand. The two have been a great help to each other, and Kozue can barely regognize the people she once knew and vaguely despised. Not that she can much recognize herself. Some parts, the love of animals, that's still there, but the angry, jealous girl who fought in duels and kissed boys just to piss people off, she's gone. Mostly. She still kisses boys, and more, and she can't deny there is a thrill in messing with people, perhaps even in hurting them, though that is something she hasn't done intentionally in a long while.

Miki gently nugs her. ``It's time.'' She looks up and sees the others already have their keys out. Hastily, she pulls out her own. It's time.

With a soft rumble, a van pulls in along the road. The front window lowers, and Saionji waves out. He helps them get all the luggage into the back. Then, they all get in. Kozue insists on sitting in the front, next to Saionji. He's always fun to needle, and besides, this way the only one sitting with the lovebirds is Miki, and he's not likely to intrude. If she's honest with herself, Kozue has to admit she herself probably would. Besides, she suspects Keiko might be a little jealous of her, for having known Shiori longer. Or maybe she's just imagining things since she still can't bring herself to trust the girl, in spite of all they've been through. Oh well, it's nothing they can't deal with together, should it become a problem. She turns to Saionji and starts discussing what music they should play on the road.

Softly, gently, the car drives away into the sunrise.


	7. Touga

Can you hear it? If you would but strain your ears and listen, you might be able to hear the sound rushing through the edge of the world. An engine, fierce and proud, hums and trembles, instinctively obeying its master's every command. A solitary being moves along those half-mapped roads, tracing the circumference of existence. He seeks the door that might lead him beyond it. He seeks to go beyond the end of the world.

He knows it exists. Others once shared this empty existence with him, blue and orange, pink and purple. They're gone now, and for something that once existed to not be, it must pass through a doorway into nonexistence. He seeks that path, that shining exit from his lonely world. He has mapped out every inch of these roads, and now, more than anything, he wishes for escape.

Suddenly, a figure blocks his path. Tires squeal, the engine protests, and mere inches before bowling the stranger over, the car stops. The stranger smiles, his jacket and long white hair billowing in the wind. ``That's my car you're driving.''

``It is.'' He does not get out.

Wordlessly, the stranger walks up to him and holds a hand against his chest. ``Would you allow me to step into the driver's seat.''

Mirroring the stranger's motion, he holds out a hand, placing it on the man's bare chest. ``No.''

Synchronized now, they each pull a sword from the other, and then the duel begins, him in the driver's seat, the stranger on the road. The stranger pushes ahead, forcing the duel up onto the seats, then the hood. Finally, with a sudden slash, the stranger cuts his robes and pushes him off the car. Standing atop the hood, his hair gently waving in the breeze, the stranger laughs chidingly. ``Of this power, you are not worthy. It is mine alone.'' Leaping into the driver's seat in a single, fluid motion, the stranger starts the engine and, just like that, he is alone again.

He falls to the ground. He curses the stranger. He curses the car. He curses the world and the mysterious force that took the others away from him. He curses the road. He stands up, turns away from the world, away from the road, glaring into the unknowable void beyond. His hands find the railings, and he growls into the darkness.

He blinks. Under his fingers rests something small, and metallic. He holds it up. It's a key. He looks into the darkness, and in the key's glint, it seems no longer so fierce. He looks behind himself, and sees a humble little one-seater of a car. He looks into the darkness.

Something catches his ear. He looks to his side. In the distance, he can still hear the stranger's car. It's slower now, the stranger's power is waning, perhaps he can catch up now.

He looks into the ever-unfamiliar darkness again. Then, he takes his key, hops into his car, and follows the stranger instead.


End file.
